Paint It Red
by Zen Monk
Summary: A collection of Vincent and Tifa being together. They live. They learn. And they love, in all ways that can be mustered.
1. Red Easter

Tifa closed the bar for the night, for it is Easter weekend. Edge isn't the most devout on the best of days, but the coincidence of Aerith's rain upon it so near to the cusp of Spring sent many into fervent prayers.

Blessed be the earth, as dry as a bone it may be and with little fertility.

Blessed is the lamb, where they may amble around in fields far from here.

Blessed is the wine, for she serves the most red in her stock, and the most repentant of all come to her for the deep color of life and of life that was spilled by his stilled hand.

Tifa stepped out from the cellar in the by-room near the bar proper, next to the beer kegs and ale barrels. She searched the room for that familiar red and saw that he hung it up on a coat rack so neatly and prim like a shy ghost. The man who gave up this ghost, Vincent all clad in darkness and eyes of red, sat at the bar like the repentant man who went to the bartender first before the priest. She stood next to this stool as friends do because they're not interested in business matters.

She poured him a glass half-full, and she said it as much when he complained she gave him half-empty. He gave her a miffed scowl, and it was so human that she smiled and placed her hand on the back of his neck to pull him down to her lips. It was chaste because he was surprised, so she upped the intention by filling her own glass- just enough for a taste, a swallow- and swirled the red between them before drinking it down. She could feel the way his eyes follow her long throat as she drinks, her face up and letting him behold the way the low yellow lights glow on her skin. She looked at him, her eyes feeling as alive as red can be, not from tears but from the deep fire in her irises, a window to her heart that still pulse dark and vibrant.

Vincent raised a toast to her and drank. His eyes didn't leave hers. He lowered the glass and she saw a drop from the corner of his lips. She caught it with her finger and, salaciously, she slipped down her shirt- a shirt loose enough to bear a whole shoulder- but she slipped that shirt down to reveal her left breast and placed the drop of wine there on a peaky nipple.

Vincent saw red and went right for her.

Blessed is the flesh, for we rejoice our lives before we turn to dust.


	2. Alas

Everyone decided to spend the night in Mideel. It's far enough away from anything Midgar or Shin-ra to not feel the influence of corporate propaganda, and it's near enough to Cloud, whose mind is currently lost, but being there physically with him gives the semblance of wholeness to the group that hadn't been felt since the Forgotten City. It's to death that they rally, mused Vincent, but certainly they didn't rally for a future of death.

Either on the mundane earthly Gaia or raining from the heavens, Hell is everywhere for anyone dying.

Everyone could at least pretend that in the quiet village nestled in the green jungle with its animal noises and slumber sounds, that time has slowed and that all the troubles and Meteor remained in Midgar where it should be and not overhanging them like a guillotine.

Vincent stepped out of the inn, the night cool but not chilly, and everywhere faintly illuminated by the moon and the glowing disaster above. He could see the medical facility where Cloud resides from the porch where he was standing, and upon spying a familiar feminine figure, he walked towards her without a second thought.

"Couldn't sleep?" he asked, upon approaching her, her back towards him. She didn't seem surprised, unusual as she would get flustered at his sneakiness and silent shadowing of people.

"Looks like you couldn't, either," she said back softly. He noticed the way her hands clenched into fists on the railing of the porch. He stood next to her on her left, offering his presence in comforting solidarity.

"This place is too quiet," murmured he. "You can feel the tension by the people and by the wildlife around here. Still, better than the city."

"Definitely," sighed Tifa. Her eyes are downcast, avoiding the sky or his gaze. "I...I want to stay here. To be with Cloud."

"To find a cure?" he said, laconic, not really a question. He hoped she didn't hear the criticism.

"Yeah... well, it's not the main reason. Guilt, I guess. Or maybe... if we're all going to die, I want to be with the one really important to me. To make it comfortable for him. And... and because I did him wrong and I won't want Cloud to be alone in case we all die."

Vincent looked down at her, to her face, still downcast but her facade breaking and looking inward to herself, to the deep dark depths within. Eyes soulful and sympathetic, he tried to get her gaze on him, to raise her up.

"Tifa, I won't reproach you for not going with us. I say with certainty that none of us would." Her eyes slowly lifted up to him, as though weighted. He reached out to her and placed an ungloved hand over her fist. Her hand flinched lightly from the contact, but relaxed incrementally.

"Comatose Cloud aside, I hope that being here would be restful for you. It's a wonder you didn't break from the trying ordeals."

"How'd you know I'm not broken already?" a shadow of a smile on her lips.

"Because you have us to hold you up."

A sharp intake of breath, eyes up at him soulful and raw, and he took it as an invitation to move his hand up to cup her cheek. His thumb detected dried tear tracks upon tender skin and gently rubbed it away.

"Break as many times as it happens. Cry as much. Scream. You won't chase us away."

"Big words, coming from someone who stuck himself in a coffin for 30 years."

"Hmm, did I stick myself in it or not...?" he mused to himself.

"More mysterious than ever," a quiet laugh emerged from her. A victory. "How long are you going to keep your hand there?"

"Until I do this." He swiftly bent down his head to kiss her softly. She gasped lightly but didn't push away. It was a light kiss, on the lips, but meaningful and substantial. He raised his head, looking at her expression to gauge her reaction.

"For good luck. Take it as you will."

She closed her eyes and made a small, shy smile. It could be the light from Meteor, but he swore he could see a blush blooming across her cheeks.

"Well, coming from someone like you, I won't take this lightly. So… thank you, Vincent."

"Someone like me?"

"Like someone who hold his cards too close to his heart. I… you don't strike me as the kind of guy who would just do things without a thought or that… you don't say thoughtless things. So you know what? I'll believe in that. About how you and everyone else are supporting me and Cloud."

"Mmm, I think more for your sake than Cloud's, at this point."

Tifa gave him a reproachful look. "Hey now…"

"Not to discredit the lad's suffering," he said quickly. "But we can't well have you put under strain as well. So… Let us take care of things."

Tifa considered him for a moment, and it could be the faint light playing tricks on him but she seemed to stand up straighter, as though a weight has been lifted.

"Okay. I'm counting on you. And that's something that you don't need to seal with a kiss."

Vincent gave a rueful smile, one that Tifa saw so rarely that it nearly made her heart skip a beat.

"Alas," he said simply.


	3. A Succulent Fruit

Peaches. She tasted of peaches, and the aforementioned fruit seemed to tumble out of the plastic bag which were brought in and put on his desk. They bounced on the carpeted floor of his office, which he kept as clean and tidy as he can in comparison to the rest of Edge. Thankfully, the fruit is opposite of where their feet are, and the way Tifa stepped closer to Vincent, to kiss a little deeper with those soft lips and mouth that still had the taste of the ripe fruit, soon there will be a tangle of long legs to go with the hands in their hair and around their bodies.

Minutes before, Vincent knew Tifa was at the door with that soft knocking, careful and shy, and the way her silhouette was looked through the fogged glass and the painted lettering that said "Cerberus, P. I." They were not so far away from each other, really just a walkway between their two buildings, Seventh Heaven and the solo detective agency and consultant that Vincent decided to form. And it helps to have two buildings connected togethera, banding together like two families, like two parties that hold different intentions but the same goal. Side-by-side, as they are now... or rather, warm bodies holding each other.

And before this embrace happened, there was another one yesterday, and it showed when she walked in, all demure and maybe a bit cautious. Like stepping onto uncertain ground, even though Tifa should know by now that there isn't anything uncertain about him anymore. He's simpler than most people think he would be, and he played up those expectations when it suited him. But not to her, though. There's enough complications in her life where she really relied on having the people close to her still want to be close to her and not having to stretch out and out like being a rubber band holding a bundle together. She walked into his office, feet in sandals which the carpet cushioned its sound, and her face was beaming at him, aglow, and right then he wanted to hold both her cheeks with his hands, both flesh and metal. She held a plastic bag behind her by her fingers. She wore a pleated black skirt that moves gracefully by her knees, and a white blouse that looked a little nicer, a bit more new, which has a wide neck showing her collar bone and all of her neck.

He thought it was purposeful because she knew yesterday that he liked to bite.

And she moved with purpose, too, mostly in that she remembered what they had done yesterday and it showed when she looked at him, shy and also unmistakably happy (for which he was relieved), and the way she would look away a bit, fully of nervous energy, and it was with the gift of peaches in the bag that she seemed to hold onto as a lifeline.

"Cloud brought some back from his delivery trip. From Costa del Sol, really, and they're ripe and ready to eat. Oh, and I, um, I also washed them so you don't have to worry about having to do it... so that it's more convenient."

And he said then, "May I try some, then?"

And he wished he learned how to use a camera on his phone, because he would want to take a picture of her smile right now so he can see it forever. He stood up and walked away from his desk, where Tifa walked towards to set the bag down, and with her eyes on him he pulled the shutters down on the door window and flipped the "closed" sign up. He looked back over his shoulder, his eyes on hers, and locked the door with an audible "click." She blushed so beautifully then, and the dark look in her eyes was another tell that said that she remembered how yesterday they were also in a private room so they can do private things.

Because yesterday, they were alone in the bar and it was late at night. Yesterday, he was nicely buzzed and he felt he could take on the world and sample all its delights. Yesterday, she noticed his dopey face and laughed softly and even though they live right across from each other she joked that she probably should let him spend the night at Seventh Heaven and he said to her then "Then let me spend the night with you" and he sobered up right quick when she looked like she considered it seriously and it was just the chance for him to lean up to kiss her.

She said "...Okay" very softly then, and if it weren't for the complete quiet in the bar he probably wouldn't hear but he would know it from her eyes which he wouldn't ever stop looking away from. And upstairs they went. She gave him a towel to show him the shower in the hallway. She went to her own, and in the privacy of the stall he let the hot water rain down on him because he doesn't want to dull his senses with cold water, with cold reason, and he came out steaming. And he saw her changed into soft cotton shorts that showed her long legs and a loose shirt that clung at just the right places, and long dark hair that looked even darker because she washed it, and she has that fresh, clean look where it's like her face opened up to let everything and everyone in, so all it took was to have them look at each other for Vincent to quickly move forward, close her bedroom door, and to touch her where she wanted him to touch.

Just like now, where she's here in his office because she wanted to talk about their night together, dressed up nicely and with peaches as pretense, even though they had a lovely breakfast this morning when they did talk about it and that this was something both she and him wanted to try to venture forward themselves. He thought that maybe she was thinking that the end of the day means the end of what they wanted this morning, and so when he watched her eat a peach, with teeth that bit through soft skin which had before bit against the skin of his shoulder as she rode the cusp of her own orgasm, he reached out to her and pulled her by the waist so that she was flushed against him.

He gave her a smile of his own, face close to hers, and he took the peach from her hand and bit into it. He underestimated how succulent it was. She laughed low and delicately moved aside his arm and the peach so that she could lean forward to kiss and lick at the juice that dripped down from his lips and nearly down his chin. And when she was satisfied, she pulled away from him with a content smile, victorious, and took the peach back to finish it.

He gave a tissue to her for the pit, and, leaning against his desk, he pulled her into a full kiss.

She tasted of peaches, and it wasn't all that had mattered then. What mattered was that she was like how she was in his arms last night, warm and willing. There were no nerves here, though, and she didn't hesitate to reach around his shoulders to pull him down to her. His hands traced her hourglass hips. She kissed over his lips and his cheeks as she tucked his hair behind his ear. He reached up her skirt with his right hand and she sighed so wonderfully as he cupped her sex, over lace underwear and he grinned triumphant against her mouth. She retaliated with a meaningful press of her palm across his lap. So he bit her lip then, and each of them resumed their teasing pets at each other until their breath became breathless and kisses are harder and fluid.

She ran her hands up from his pants, over solid black button up shirt which seemed to swallow up more light than his usual leathers, to cup his face and said in a whisper "Here? Now?" and it sounded to him more like a request than her questioning their actions, and he would say to both possibilities with a "yes" and he's got his fingers up to the palm inside her. Her breath hitched and her fingers gripped his shoulders, but he's got her by the hip and by her cunt to steady her, and the heel of his hand rolled against her clitoris, against bone almost, and fingers gently moved inside slick flesh.

There's no shyness between them, now. She's resting her forehead against him, breathing heavy, and her moans make him hard and tense. He breathed through his nose, trying to relax, while thinking how good and tight she was last night, to be surrounded and enveloped within her then and how he would soon feel the same now. He can reach deep inside her and keep reaching and reaching until the both of them met each other in pleasure.

And the chance came when she kicked aside her sandals and almost in frustration she brought her hands off of him and up her skirt and she pulled down her panties- "Black lace?" he couldn't help but laugh- and she kissed him in retaliation while she spread her legs a little more, only the pleated skirt hiding her modesty when his hand stroked her harder. He got her gasping, got her hotter and seeing her neck flush so prettily. He gently grazed his teeth at her shoulder just as his thumb rubbed in hard circles around her clitoris, and she cried out her orgasm. She shuddered all around him, and she nearly collapsed on him when he brought his hand out and licked his fingers as he would from tasting fruit that dribbled down his palm.

He wouldn't let her languish, though; he got up from his seat and turned her around. Before she knew it, he got her to lean on the wall opposite them, hands on the wall instead of on smooth shirt, and she looked behind her shoulder to see what it is he's doing but he unzipped himself in response and she smiled in understanding, if still a little nervous.

"Nervous?" he asked as he loomed behind her.

"Excited," she amended, and he could hear the smile in her voice. He kissed her neck in response, then lifted her skirt and thrust himself inside her.

"Oh! Oh! Ohhhhh..." she moaned and she hung her head down. She was hot, wet, and Vincent nearly came inside her from the overwhelming sensation and how she clenched at him wonderfully around his cock. He has both hands around her waist, and he pressed the whole length of his body over the curve of her back and it's like they'll never be separated. He said as much to her, how Tifa feels so nice in his arms and how they can stay like this forever and they can and will and he promised it will be so. And with each word he rocked inside her until he's frantically thrusting so that she's starting to cry out, keening in pleasure and want.

He's taking her hard and he almost wants to rip her apart, his hands gripping and squeezing at her hips, her buttocks, up her breasts and under her bra to twist her nipples and hold flesh like she is his own. He ran a hand down her stomach to hold her to desperately rub against her clit hard and quick, his other hand rolling her nipple between forefinger and thumb until she came so hard she nearly screamed.

Feeling her shake and shudder around him made his eyes roll up in the back of his head, nearly lost in pleasure. But he held on. It was not enough. He pulled out and he held her tightly. He kissed her neck, and she moaned lightly at the gentle contact. She turned around in his arms to kiss, and he let her take as much from him as she can. Her hands are busy. His erection, if a little sensitive now, brushed against her midriff wetly, and she grasped him firmly in hand.

"Easy, Tifa!" he cried out, laughing. "I think you'll kill me, at this point."

"And you didn't kill me, now?" she whispered low in her voice, coaxing and wanting. Even so, she lightly pulled and rubbed her fingers on him and he nearly lost it when her other hand cupped his balls and gently rolled them on her palm.

"You don't want me to make a mess on you, do you?" he groaned. "I wouldn't want to leave evidence of our clandestine lovemaking for all to speculate."

"Not if I do this," she said suggestively, and to his great surprise she got down her knees and took his erection in her mouth.

He closed his eyes and lost himself in the feel of her tongue and lips sliding up and down his cock. He supposed it was something of payback from last night, for their positions were reversed then. Last night, he had her on her back upon her bed. His head was in her lap, kissing up her thighs and to kiss her at lower lips between her legs. Then, he had licked and swallowed and lapped at all her sensitive flesh, leaving her to moan and to make a fist in his hair, nearly pressing his head down harder.

He thought she sucked his head about as hard as he did for her clit. Like a seal of heat, she paid particular attention at the tip while her hand moved up and down his shaft in an almost soothing gesture.

He was close; he reached the peak of tension. She's breaking him and molding him in her hands. "Ti-Tifa... wait. Let me, let me just-" and she stopped him by taking him whole.

He held her head, then. He tried with great difficulty to not hurt her in his grip, but he couldn't stop his hips from helplessly thrusting in her mouth. He almost couldn't remember what he was doing or where he was. Only his hands moved as though having minds of their own, stroking back Tifa's hair as she lapped and swallowed his seed. Her hands moved around his hips to grip at his buttocks, as she moved her mouth up from his cock and balls to kiss at his stomach.

He knelt down to her, to kiss lips and cheeks. He murmured "I love you" against her ear, and kissed her before she could say it back. He said it not because he expected proof of devotion from her; he had it the moment she had him at her mercy. Better to let her know that he is hers and always will be.

She said she loves him, anyway.


End file.
